Bibliosexual

My own little private romance
with words and pages.

My eyes drink in their meaning,
as I pour myself into the paper.
Intoxicated on information,
the scent an aphrodisiac, carefully curated.
Pheromones made of ink.

My fingers gripping
as she spreads herself open,
my thighs begin to clench,
as she reveals herself to me like a wanton lover.

My mouth waters, my consciousness
drifts to my lips.

I turn another page like I’m taking off
another piece of clothing.